


Ink & Honey

by killingsaray



Series: Tattoo My Mind & Pierce My Heart [1]
Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: Baby's First Tattoo, Does this count as therapy?, F/F, Minor Character Death, Sexual Tension, Tattoo Shop AU, deep talks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27525445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingsaray/pseuds/killingsaray
Summary: “You won’t hurt me, right?” Maca asks as the tattoo gun in Zulema’s hand starts to buzz with life.“Only if you say ‘please’.” Zulema grins.ORThe one where Maca finds healing in the most unlikely of places.
Relationships: Macarena Ferreiro/Zulema Zahir
Series: Tattoo My Mind & Pierce My Heart [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154522
Comments: 37
Kudos: 128





	Ink & Honey

**Author's Note:**

> could it be? has Ash written a puff piece? what *will* she do next?

* * *

_“Tattoos have power and magic all their own. They decorate the body but also enhance the soul.”_

_-Michelle Delio_

* * *

“Are you sure about this?”

This is the third time Rizos asks her the question. 

_ Or is it the fourth? _

Maca tries, but she can’t remember. She puts the car in park and turns off the ignition, sighing.

“I’m sure,” she replies.

This is the only thing she’s sure about lately. It’s the only thing she can control. In the last six months, things have gone from bad to worse. Her mother died in January, killed by a stray bullet during a drive-by shooting in the neighborhood where she was volunteering. In front of a place of worship, no less. Her father took it harder than anyone. He took to the bottle, drinking heavily nearly every night in an attempt to block out the heartbreak only for it to return when he sobered up. By June, he was a full-on functioning alcoholic and got into a terrible car accident that put him in a coma. He never came out of it. Macarena and her brother were forced to pull the plug when it became apparent that there was no brain activity.

Now, it’s just the two of them left and there’s so much to be done in the aftermath of it all. All Macarena wants is for everything to just fucking  _ stop _ for a moment. 

That’s where Rizos comes in. She’s the kind of friend that takes life’s adventures and makes them her bitch. Maca wants to be that kind of person, so when Rizos suggested that they put together their own bucket lists, it was serendipity when they both wrote: “get a tattoo”. 

So, here they are, sitting in the car outside of  _ Blood & Ink _ , one of the best tattoo parlors in Madrid. They have a waitlist that extends nearly three weeks and Macarena and Rizos were lucky to get a phone call from them saying they had a cancellation and the girls could be moved up on the list. 

They step out of the car together, Maca takes a deep breath and they start towards the front door.

The walls are a sleek, black wainscot from top to bottom and each panel holds a framed hand-drawn design. There’s a dark gray couch with decorative pillows and a throw blanket off to the side where Maca assumes guests would wait to be seen. The shop smells both sterile  _ and _ calming. Maca attributes that to the medical-grade alcohol bottles locked in a glass cabinet on either wall and the eucalyptus and tea candles burning throughout the place.

There’s a tall brunette sitting on a barstool in front of a clear jewelry display case who is adding new sheets to a black binder while nodding her head to the reggaeton that’s playing throughout the shop. Inside of the jewelry case is cut out displays of more hand-drawn tattoo designs on the left and about a dozen different styles of piercings. 

When she hears the bell chime as they enter, the brunette looks up from her task and juts her chin towards them in a form of greeting. 

“ _ Que pasa _ ,  _ chicas _ ,” she says. 

“ _ Hola, soy  _ Rizos. My friend, Macarena, and I have appointments today.”

The tall brunette behind the glass counter presses her hand against her chest. “ _ Soy _ Saray. I think we spoke on the phone.” She then stretches her long arm out over the counter and shakes each of their hands, noticing that Maca is reluctant to shake. She’s too distracted by the ambiance. It’s not at all what she expects a tattoo parlor would look like.

“At ease, _ rubía _ . I promise we don’t bite. Have you been in a tattoo parlor before?” Saray asks Macarena. She doesn’t need to ask Rizos, the half-sleeve that decorates her left arm tells Saray enough.

“It’s her first tattoo,” Rizos answers for her friend. Saray pulls two clipboards from god knows where and slides one in front of each woman. It’s a basic waiver and instructions on proper cleaning instructions for their ink.

Maca and Rizos sign everything and push the waivers back across the counter. 

“A virgin,” Saray smirks. She picks up the sheet and looks it over, making sure the cute blonde has signed, initialed, and dated everything. “Okay, looks good. Just need to see some ID to make copies.”

They both pull out their licenses and hand them over to Saray who turns on her stool to make quick copies at the machine that’s hidden by the display case. She hands them their identification back and then staples the corresponding copies to either of their waivers.

“So, as the owner of the shop, Zulema gets the honor of deflowering all tattoo virgins here.”

Maca flushes and she nods. 

“Zule!” Saray turns and yells. 

“ _ Que _ ?” A voice calls back. When Saray doesn’t respond, Maca hears someone grumbling a few curse words before an older woman with her raven hair pulled back into a loose ponytail at the base of her neck appears from the rear of the shop. She’s in dark clothing that includes an oversized hoodie and cargo pants with a chain looped against her left side. It’s a conservative sort of attire, meant to hide  _ something _ but Macarena can see body art peeking out from certain places. The most prominent ones are the inked line under her left eye and the red tail of what could be a scorpion curling up her neck. She looks at Saray, completely ignoring the two women on the opposite side of the counter. 

“What?” She asks, hands lifted. Saray has clearly interrupted whatever she was doing.

“ _ La rubia,  _ here, has never had a tattoo before.”

Zulema finally looks at them. She inhales deeply as she looks Macarena up and down. A brow cocks and her expression is unreadable. “ _ Es eso así _ ?”

Macarena squirms under Zulema’s scrutiny. She finds herself desperately wanting to know what the older woman is thinking. It takes a moment for Macarena to realize that she’s actually looking for a response. 

So, the blonde nods. “ _ Es verdad. _ ”

“Hm,” is all she says. She looks back at Saray. “Did she—?”

“Mhm.” Saray quickly hands her the clipboard with Maca’s information as if she can read Zulema’s mind.

“ _ Vale _ . Come on,  _ rubia _ .” To her left, there is a swinging gate that is made of the same black wainscoting as the walls. She pulls it towards her, motioning with her head for Maca to follow her. “You’re mine now.”

Maca slips through the small space between Zulema and the counter. Their bodies brush against one another. She gets a whiff of Zulema  _ —bergamot, and vanilla and what else? _ — and her skin tingles. Maca swears she hears the deep hum of a chuckle from the brunette but it’s so low that she can’t be sure. Her cheeks flush anyway and she admits to herself that she’s attracted to the brunette. 

It’s not strange for her; she’s had drunken moments with Rizos that she didn’t hate. So, it doesn’t surprise her that she is drawn to this woman who radiates a dangerous kind of sensual energy. 

_ It’s just been a while _ , Maca dismisses as she follows Zulema into the back. Just before she rounds the corner, she takes one last wary look at Rizos who gives her a vibrant smile and a thumbs up. It would be nice to have her there to hold her hand, but somehow Maca knows she is in good hands. 

The rear of the parlor looks like a tiny beehive of offices. Two on the right, three on the left, and then as they keep going, there’s an open concept workstation at the end of the hall. In the center of the room is an adjustable chair that Macarena is used to seeing at her monthly spa appointments. Just beside it is a black rolling cart with four drawers. On top, there is a MacBook that is playing a different playlist than the one in front of the shop. The blonde takes a lap around the office, looking at the breathtaking prints on Zulema’s walls. 

“You drew all of these?” She inquires, turning to Zulema as she points to one in particular that catches her attention. It’s a very detailed red scorpion, the tail curved much like the glimpse Maca has seen on Zulema’s neck. 

_ Are all of the prints on the wall ones that can be found on Zulema’s body? Can she read the artwork like a storybook? Do they tell her story with no words at all? _

Zulema nods as she reads something on her computer. She taps twice on the trackpad and the music changes to something a bit more upbeat. 

The brunette’s voice floats through her thoughts. “Do you have any idea what you want?”

_ That is a loaded question _ , Maca muses. She wants her parents to be alive again. She wants the calls from estate solicitors and estranged family members to stop. And she so desperately wants to see a sliver of light in the dark tunnel that is her life right now. 

She shakes her head.

“Little heart behind your ear? Butterfly on your hip?” Zulema tilts her head to the side and raises a brow. “Tramp stamp?”

Maca rolls her eyes. “You’re making fun of me.” It isn’t a question.

There is something about her melancholic tone that forces Zulema’s eyes to flick up. She squints slightly at the blonde. 

_ Ah _ . 

She knows that look in the blonde’s eyes all too well. It’s the same look Zulema sees when she gazes into the mirror for too long. 

_ Pain _ . 

She takes pity on the blonde.

“What do you want more than anything right now?”

Maca takes a beat. The question stuns her. Zulema can tell. But only for a moment. Then her posture straightens and her shoulders relax a bit. 

“Peace,” Maca concludes with finality in her tone.

The word hangs between them for a few moments as they gaze at one another. Then Zulema nods and opens a drawer beside her leg. She retrieves a sketchbook, pencils in a variety of colors, and a large ziplock bag of assorted candy. She pulls out a lollipop and then tosses the bag across the counter to Maca. The blonde picks it up, rifles through it and chooses what she thinks is a soft, sour candy, and unwraps it as quietly as she can. She doesn’t want to break Zulema’s concentration. 

She finds that the candy isn’t sour like she wants. It’s actually a honey and caramel chewy treat. It may not be what she’d wanted, but it’s certainly what she needs. Something she’s never had before.

It’s a perfect metaphor for her life. 

The brunette is quiet for a long while as she sketches out Macarena’s potential tattoo. Hunched over the sketch pad, she picks up and drops a series of colorful pens and pencils as goes. Maca is anxious to see the final result, but Zulema’s free hand is holding both a spare red pencil as well as her lollipop as it spins the sheet from one angle to another as she works her magic. 

It’s strategic, of course, because a magician never reveals their secrets. 

By the time Zulema’s lollipop is finished, so is the sketch. 

“ _ Vale _ .  _ Estamos listos _ ,” declares Zulema. 

Maca perks up. She strains her neck to see what the ending result is, but Zulema quickly gathers the book and holds it to her chest. “You’ll see when it’s inked.”

“But—.”

“Do you trust me?”

Maca stills. She gives Zulema a once over. And oddly enough, the answer is—.

_ Yes _ . 

But her lips part and form the words, “I just met you.”

“Okay.”  _ That was a fair point _ . “You’ve seen my work. Do you at least trust me as an artist?”

“Yes.”

“Do you trust me as an artist to know that it will be beautifully done?”

Maca sighs. She does. “Yes.”

“Good.” She turns the paper over flat on the chair that she just vacated, readjusts, and then pats the massage chair for Macarena. “Hop up.”

It’s bent backward and the hole meant for her face is vertical. Maca looks confused. 

“Sit. Face here.”

Maca straddles the short side of the chair. Puts her face where it’s supposed to go. Optimal leverage for—.

“Neck tattoos are my specialty. And it’ll hurt a little less since it’ll be on the back of your neck.”

This isn’t totally a lie. The front of the neck is the most sensitive, followed by the sides. Maca won’t really feel too much pain until she goes over one of the vertebrae of her spine. But she should be just numb enough by then for it to be more a mild irritation than anything else. 

“I’ll be right back.”

Zulema leaves the room for a few moments, leaving Macarena with her own thoughts. 

_ Is this insane? Was she really doing this? Getting a tattoo by a woman who wouldn’t even let her see it beforehand?  _ She is giving up the small ounce of control she has over this entire situation. But this time, it’s her choice to do so. So, when Zulema reenters the room and shuts the door, Maca doesn’t move an inch. 

“Gotta say,  _ rubía _ , I thought you’d be halfway to Valencia by now.”

“I thought about it.”

Zulema chuckles and pulls a stool behind Macarena. She rolls her cart closer and hops onto the stool, once again overwhelming Macarena with her scent. 

_ Seriously, what was that third note that Macarena can’t quite place?  _ It’s familiar, yet… unusual.

The brunette pulls on a pair of black gloves before she sterilizes the area where she is going to place the tattoo. She shaves it down, so there is a smooth surface to work with and then she sterilizes it again with more medical-grade alcohol. She places what feels like wax paper against Maca’s still damp skin and presses down in different areas for a minute or so. Then the paper is peeled away and she hears Zulema mutter, “beautiful”. 

There are a few rustling sounds of packages being torn open. Zulema is opening new tattoo needles and sterilizing those as well. 

“You won’t hurt me, right?” Maca asks as the tattoo gun in Zulema’s hand starts to buzz with life. 

“Only if you say ‘please’,” Zulema says and Macarena can practically  _ hear _ the cocky smirk. 

Maca is suddenly thankful that she’s no longer facing Zulema so the brunette cannot see her cheeks flush.

The tattoo needle kisses Maca’s skin and she squeezes her hands into fists. As it presses down and follows the first drawn line, Maca closes her eyes and tries to concentrate on something else. 

“If you’re not going to tell me what it is, at least distract me from the fact that I can hear the buzzing in my ears.”

Zulema chuckles again. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. Anything. Tell me a story.”

There’s silence from behind. No noise except for the goddamned buzzing vibrations that she can feel in her teeth and hear in her head. 

Finally, Zulema begins, “There’s a creature that has long been revered as one of the most sacred beings. Some Native cultures believe it’s the form of a god. Others believe that it’s a messenger that links humans to gods and angels. Some people choose to believe that this being is a loved one who has just passed is coming back to visit them. To say hello and everything is going to be okay.”

Maca’s eyes flutter open. 

_There’s no way she could know about her parents._ _Is this what people usually call a sign?_

Zulema continues to regale Macarena with a backstory of what she thinks is a Phoenix or a dragon or some mythical creature that uses its size to completely disarm its opponents. Eventually, as Zulema is shading the tattoo, Macarena can’t even feel it. She’s too drawn into the stories that Zulema is telling her. 

“Anyway, this creature has to work hard to survive, so it’s become a symbol of strength and overcoming difficult times. It symbolizes hope and life and peace. And it represents the hard work and unfailing effort that it takes to  _ be _ all of those things.”

The tattoo gun finally stops and Zulema sets it down. “And in some cultures, it even represents attraction and adoration.” Zulema’s voice is deeper then, and full of an unfulfilled promise that is left up to Macarena to decipher. 

Maca  _ has _ to know. 

“What kind of creature is this?”

The back of her neck is wiped clean of any excess blood and ink and Zulema sanitizes the area once more. She opens one of the drawers on the rolling cart that holds her laptop and hands a portable mirror to Macarena. 

“Go see for yourself.”

Macarena stands from the chair and walks to the floor-length mirror in the corner of the room. She turns around and holds up the second mirror to her face in order to see her new body art. 

It’s breathtaking. The curve of the lines. The color. The story.

“A hummingbird,” Maca breathes, and her eyes well up with tears. 

“A hummingbird,” confirms Zulema. 

Maca shakes her head as she continues to admire it. “Zulema, this is  _ incredible _ .” 

“I know.”

Macarena wants to roll her eyes, but she’s too busy moving her head in different angles to see every inch of the small bird. Finally, she drops her hand and gazes at Zulema in wonder. 

“How do you know so much about hummingbirds?” 

Zulema smiles and pulls up the left sleeve of her hoodie. She has to point to it because otherwise, Macarena will never notice it in the sea of colorful art adorning Zulema’s arm. Sure enough, there in the crux of her elbow is a colorful hummingbird, it’s beak planted firmly in a hibiscus flower that then travels up and around. 

So, Zulema needs a reminder too. 

The idea that everything will be okay as long as she uses her unfailing effort to push through. 

It makes Macarena want to know so much more about the brunette. Maybe she should ask Zulema to dinner. Or drinks. If only to thank her for a job well done. 

“ _ Venga _ ,” commands Zulema, and Maca’s feet start to move before her brain even registers. She meets Zulema halfway and the brunette rounds her to get to the tattoo. She softly massages an ointment onto it before covering it carefully. 

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“Only if I reserve the right not to answer.”

That was fair. “What scent are you wearing? It’s commanding, but gentle. Vanilla, bergamot and—.”

“Honey,” Zulema confesses. 

“Honey.” 

Much like the surprise of the sweet candy. 

Something new like her tattoo. Something she needed. 

Ink and honey. 

_ Who would have thought? _

“ _ Vale _ , let’s go see how your friend is doing.”

They found Rizos and Saray in one of the mini workspaces along the corridor. Rizos has her pants off and Saray is between her thighs, holding down the corner of her panties as she tattoos Rizos’ bikini line. 

“ _ Joder _ , Rizos. I can’t take you anywhere without you taking your pants off,” Maca huffs. She looks at Zulema who looks absolutely amused. 

Saray chuckles and Rizos grins proudly. “She dared me.”

“What does it say?”

“‘Taste this’,” Rizos tells her. 

“Your parents would be so proud,” Maca teases. Rizos just grins cheekily. 

“We’ll leave you to it.” Zulema leaves the doorway and Maca follows her to the front of the shop. “So,” Zulema says, hopping up onto the stool where Saray was sitting earlier, “how do you feel now that you’re no longer a tattoo virgin?”

“A little sore but I hear that’s normal,” Maca jokes. Zulema looks both impressed and entertained.

“Any regrets having me as your first?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Good.”

A few minutes later, Saray and Rizos rejoin them. Maca reaches into the back of her jeans pocket and pulls out some cash and a couple of credit cards. She offers the credit card to Zulema, who pushes her hand away. 

“This one’s on me.”

“ _ Que va _ , Zulema, please let me pay you!” Maca protests. 

“Next time,” Zulema says because she knows there  _ will _ be a next time. 

She’s drawn to something about Macarena just like Macarena is drawn to something in her. 

“Next time.”

“See you at dinner?” Rizos says to Saray. Saray nods and the two make their way to the front door. 

_ If she turns around—. _ Before Zulema can even finish the thought, Maca takes one last glance at her before disappearing with Rizos. 

**Author's Note:**

> I left the ending open in case I want to come back to this and add more chapters.


End file.
